Außer Antwort (draft, but I'll correct it sometime this week)
by Marta Ayanami
Summary: Everyone was insane here. Except perhaps one Warren. They all insisted at looking at him as if he was a nice gift from fate for that silver-haired monster. Which was sheer madness, as he's never ever met Krowell -wait. That name? How did he know it? Oh, great. He was already catching insanity from them. "I love you", indeed. Was the insane king trying to cast a spell on him?
Ausser Antwort

Prologue

 _You came to me._

 _You came to me and tried to attack me, because your mind… you mind can't remember. You're only human. But you came to me, against all odds, here, where I least expected it. Your soul must have wished it, on the day of your reincarnation._

 _You came to me and I was so busy with pointless fighting that for a second I haven't recognised you. You wished to see me, I'm certain, and I..._

 _You came to me, you soul wishing to be at my side, and I foolishly cut you down without looking, and if I didn't devour Feist before, you-_

 _You must hate me now, surely. Both your mind and soul. Because you came to me, to answer my question, and now-_

 _Now, I'm the fool who surely changed you answer._

 _Don't worry. I'm binding your soul to mine, but you won't feel it. A young Antwort army recruit, huh? You will be my prisoner – but only until you recover. After that – you're free, Yukikaze._

 _If I bothered to look – would you be my Begleiter again, in this life?_

 _No matter. Now you're sure to hate me and I lost this chance. Even so – thank you for coming. It means more to me than you, in this body and mind, will ever understand._

 _But I've said too much already, Yukikaze. Even more than I say on your grave. And I don't even know your name._

 _It's a slight comfort to know that in this life you won't be indifferent to me, either. Hating me... means you'll think of me sometimes. Thank you. There could be more – but I was blind, for this split second... so that is now lost._

He woke up, expecting, for some reason, to see the silver haired monster who almost cut off his arm with unbelievable swiftness, and then –

What happened then? That monster made a move to cut his throat, so quick that Shiro had no time to even think of defending himself, but then... it was as if time has stopped. Oh, not for Shiro, but he always tried to perceive how time passed for others. Talking to people whose time has stopped was so very exhausting, after all – he's experienced that a time with his own mother.

(She wasn't his own, she adopted him when he was five and pretended to remember nothing. But saying that she was his was a nice lie for her whole life – till year ago – and so, that's how it remained.)

He had no idea why the lavender-eyed monster's time stopped, and he didn't care. Right now, he was too busy wondering whether he should open his eyes and discover he may be dead or dying, lying in the puddle of his own blood and snow... or keep his eyelids shut for a second longer and pretend.

However...

"Heeeey, Shirokaze, chan, sleeping beauty! ~`Wakey, wakey, I can hear your mental gears shifting! And every second you're asleep is a second longer that Aya-tan won't go to sleep. And it's been five daaaaays!~`"

However... this voice was really grating, especially since it belonged to that monster's aide. And... was almost unrecognizable, as the monster's aide sounded much more serious while fighting those slave twins and other soldiers, too. So... the fact that he was somehow able to recognise it, anyway, was now strange to Shiro.

Besides. His name wasn't Shirokaze. Or Yukikaze. Any 'kaze' at all had nothing to do with his name. It was Shiro, just Shiro. Shiro Mizuno. No winds involved.

The monsters, he's decided, slowly opening his eyes for no good reason (it could be a trap), were insane. And that was all there was to it.

At least for the one with sunglasses and obnoxious voice, time hasn't stopped, as far as Shiro could see. It ran, it quickened, it danced, it pulsated – no, nothing could ever make it stop short of death, Shiro was now sure of it.

"Aya-tan?" He mumbled.

Somehow, he already knew. This had to be about silver-haired monster. He didn't know how he knew, but he felt such certainly that any doubts were instantly alleviated. Shiro might've be only twelve years old right now, sure, but when he was certain of something, nothing could sway his certainty.

"Ayanami-sama, but I like to tease him, you see *, " the monster in sunglasses anwered with a huge grin. "And besides, I don't know what name he had before, anyway. So you'd have an advantage here – if you weren't a reborn baby, that is, Kaze-chan~~"

So cheerful, that voice. As if the he hadn't just cut down all Shiro's comrades. What was this man?

Still, Shiro was much too tired for insane ramblings. He forced himself to wake up too early and already he felt himself loosing what slight consciousness he had.

However, before everything went dark again, he thought he heard himself say "It's Krowell. But don't say the name to him if you don't want to hurt him. Please, don't."

Shiro awoke again, and judging from the moon, it had to be the middle of the night.

The silver-haired monster was sitting in a chair now, instead of the other one. So, the monster who almost killed him. Somehow, Shiro wasn't feeling any hatred right now. Maybe he was just too tired.

Also... did he really say something weird about silver-haired monster before?

Well. Only one way to find out.

"Krowell-san," Shiro whispered.

The silver-haired monster – Aya-tan or Krowell, apparently – awoke with a start.

"Yu-Shiro," 'Krowell' whispered, in a greeting that sounded so reverant, that just for a moment, Shiro had an illusion that to this man, Shiro was... an avatar of some saint or god. This tone of voice – it belonged in a church, not at a bedside of a prisoner of war. This was insane. They were all insane. "Have your wounds healed?"

Shiro nodded reluctantly. Would this insane person now take this as an invitation to inflict new ones on him?

"Then," – the lavender-eyed monster continued, - "you're free to go. I've already discussed it with Chairman Miroku. You're dismissed. Go. If anybody touches you, they're dead."

The monster stood up and left the door, leaving both the door and the window unlocked, as if Shiro was really free.

Oh, he dared to hope he was, though trying to run away was sure to be a fool's errand. Someone would kill him for trying, surely.

So, now was the moment to decide. What was better, in the end – death, or insanity?

He knew – though he knew not how, but he trusted himself – that if he ever saw 'Krowell' again, he'd wish to see him again, and again, and again.

That was madness, certainly. It had to be.

And so... life, or sanity. He'd have to choose.

Window seemed safer. Since 'Krowell' left through the door, he couldn't be standing down there, right this second, even with his speed.

Therefore, slowly and carefully, he climbed down the wall. However, it seemed he wasn't completely healed yet, as he lost his balance and plummeted to his-

-very comfortable mattress that smelled rather pleasantly. It was wet with snow – the night was quite snowy, after all – but it was so soft that Shiro felt tempted to sleep-

Fortunately, until morning, he had no insane dreams. Sometimes, he almost woke up – and when he did, he moved his hands and legs, making sure there were no chains. There were none.

'Krowell' was too insane to be an enemy king, that much was clear. If so, then... what was he?

When he woke up at the sunrise and sat up, he's realised that someone put a comfortable blanket on him. Infuriated now, he tore it to shreds, stood up, and ran in a random direction, passing some enemy soldiers who seemed unsure what to make of him and didn't try to stop him.

Barsburg was insane. He had to leave it – now. Before it somehow warped his mind, too.

The mattress was too much.

 _I hate you._

Somewhere, a silver-haired monster felt, through a certain bond, a pang of emotion, where before there was more. And breathed more deeply, as if now allowed to, for the first time in five days. There was even a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"I love you," he whispered, making sure the words could be felt over the bond, even though he knew they wouldn't be understand. Still, they may feed whatever emotion there was, make it burn more brightly.

It hurt so much – so much when for almost a week now all he could feel Yukikaze feeling towards him was indifference – that now, he was glad for this gift. Oh, it wasn't hartred, strangely enough. Ayanami knew hatred and what Yukikaze – no, Shiro was his name now – felt was barely a dislike.

A dislike. Not indifference. For the first time in years, he spoke to Yukikaze, and Yukikaze answered him, even if it was so lukewarm for now, neither hot nor cold.

Still, it was something. And if Yukikaze decided to leave Barsburg and never see Chief of Staff again, that would be alright, too. He's spent four days at Yukikaze's side when Shiro was sleeping, after all. And maybe Yukikaze was unconscious, but he was there, was truly there with his beautiful soul that Ayanami would recognise anywhere. The Chief only left Shiro's bedside at Hyuuga's insistence and because he could feel that the boy would wake up soon enough. And he trusted Hyuuga with Yukikaze's – Shiro's – life, so leaving the room like that hurt only a little.

If he was honest with himself, he hoped to see Shiro again. He wouldn't, however, force Shiro into such a meeting.

Never again. If Shiro didn't love him, wasn't that for the better? He wouldn't try again to shield him with his body, as he had done as Yukikaze. He wouldn't die for him again.

Never again.


End file.
